Chapter 8
Magic exploded down Maeve’s spine. She halted in the dark townhouse, where she paced restlessly in the night. She blinked, certain she was wrong about the feeling.
It grew and grew. Its taste and scent familiar and safe and–
She turned as small sparks of green light twisted in the hallway.
A mighty Portal swirled before her with blues and greens illuminating the floral wallpaper. She squinted in the light. The center of the vortex cleared.
Mal stepped from the blinding light.
His Magic moved through the Double O’s restrictions with ease. He didn’t even look affected by the Magic needed to Portal through realms.
“Hello, Maeve,” he said softly.
Maeve’s chest rose and fell slowly. She didn’t move towards him.
He was in all black. A tailored set fit for a prince. Silver chains draped between his shoulders, encasing the Dread Locket that hung around his neck. A long black cloak draped to the floor.
The scar she had given him stood prominently across his brow and eye. Jagged, white skin that nearly blended into his pale complexion.
Mal stepped towards her and held out his hand. The Dread ring sat on his finger. She didn’t take it.
“Your Magic is…different,” she said stiffly.
Mal nodded. “It’s stronger.”
Maeve looked at him and swallowed the tears of rage begging for release.
Mal’s shoulders fell. “Maeve–”
“Get it out then,” she said. “Tell me why I’ve been sitting in the shadows for seven months.”
“I came as soon as I could. Abraxas said. . .” He sighed. His voice was soft. “Seven months? Truly?”
Mal stepped towards her, stopping short as she stepped back from him.
“It’s me, Maeve,” he said.
She loosed a shaky breath but didn’t retreat from him as he stepped towards her again.
“I know you are mad and scared. I can feel it all screaming at me,” he said. “Just take my hand, and I promise I will never leave you in a different realm again.”
Maeve looked down at his outstretched hand as he moved closer to her once more. The watch she’d gifted him gleamed softly in the dim light.
“Where are we going?” She asked as she looked up at his breathtaking face.
“Home,” said Mal sincerely. “Our home.”
The Entrance Hall at Castle Morana swirled into existence around her. She’d only been there once for Mal’s coronation. The black stone floor reflected the firelight chandeliers above.
Zimsy stepped behind Maeve.
“There are hundreds of chambers and suites here, Zimsy,” said Mal. “Any one of them is yours.”
Zimsy looked up at Mal and thanked him. She turned to Maeve and took her hand. She squeezed it gently and ventured into the castle to explore.
Mal stepped forward, and Maeve hesitated. He turned back towards her. She looked past him down the long vaulted hall towards the throne room.
The last place her father drew breath. Where blood pooled from his eyes and mouth and nose. Where she felt his Magic fade from existence.
But there was new Magic at Castle Morana. Magic she had not been expecting to feel and sense.
“Maeve.”
Mal’s voice brought her out of her trance.
She looked up at him. His eyes were watchful and his face was calm.
She opened her mouth to tell him she wanted to leave. That she wanted to be anywhere but there. But a head of bright blonde hair appeared through an archway to her side.
Abraxas walked into the Entrance Hall reading a large book. He looked up at Mal. And then he stopped promptly upon seeing her. His bright, silver-blonde hair was longer, and the ends were slightly wavy. His serpent pin that signified his position as Hand gleamed on his chest.
Maeve’s throat snagged as a jagged breath escaped her lips. Her eyes filled with tears.
The book in his hands hit the floor with a thud. Abraxas quickly closed the gap between them and slammed into her, silently embracing her.
She shook and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Her jaw tightened, desperate not to cry. As she pulled away, her cousin’s hands took her own.
“Oh, how I missed you,” he said.
Maeve looked down at their hands. A shining silver band sat on his left ring finger. She couldn’t look up at him.
“Engaged?” Said Maeve with concern.
Abraxas forced his face into her line of vision. He smiled wickedly, wiping away a tear that had escaped down Maeve’s cheek. “Don’t feel sorry for me, feel sorry for her.”
Maeve laughed. And Abraxas’ chest swelled.
“Who?” She asked.
“Juliet.”
It was likely Abraxas, being Mal’s hand, had been able to pick Juliet. It was no secret the pair had indulged in many experiences together. Abraxas was wise to pick someone supportive of his lifestyle.
Maeve ignored the guilt in her stomach. She had refused her duty. And Abraxas was not given that privilege.
She smirked softly at him. “Wonderful. More blonde Rosethorns.”
He grabbed her in another embrace. “You’ve no idea how happy I am to see you.”
Maeve sighed. “I missed you, Brax.”
They pulled away and Maeve stepped back. Abraxas turned towards Mal.
“I believe everyone is here, My Prince. Except for Alphard, of course.”
“Good,” said Mal. “We’ll be just a moment.”
Abraxas scooped up his discarded book and continued across the Entrance Hall.
“Where’s Alphard?” She asked.
Mal didn’t look at her.
“He’s in Aterna.”
“With the High Lord?”
“With Reeve, yes.”
Maeve looked up at him. “You want his allegiance.”
Mal didn’t look over at her. “For starters,” he said with calculated ease.
Tension sat thick between them.
“Come,” said Mal, crossing the hall where Abraxas disappeared, “there is much I do not know.”
Roswyn and Mumford were already happily seated at the large circular table when Maeve and Mal arrived. Abraxas put out his cigar as they joined them. He looked to Mal. Mal gave him a short nod, and Abraxas began their meeting.
Roswyn relayed information about the Double O, Vaukore, and all the Magical restrictions on Earth. Once he was finished Abraxas spoke.
“It will only be a matter of moments before Moon, Doggbind, and the Double O realize Mal has returned,” said Abraxas. “And more-so, how easily he got to Earth despite their Magical blockades.”
“Thousands of Magical Militia are ready to come here,” said Roswyn.
“Wonderful,” said Abraxas. “That will be our next order of business: ensuring all Magicals who wish to come to The Dread Lands are able.”
“Is the city habitable yet?” Asked Mumford.
Abraxas answered for Mal, who was preoccupied with watching every single breath that rose and fell through Maeve.
“Some of the manors and estates closest to the castle are, yes. The Beryl City I believe is next?”
Abraxas looked to Mal. He peeled his eyes away from Maeve for long enough to say, “Soon.”
Abraxas nodded. “Any Magical citizens who need immediate placement in the Dread Lands can reside here at Castle Morana until then.”
“And the Double O?” Questioned Mumford. “We just allow them to carry on?”
“For now,” replied Mal.
“Vaukore as well,” said Abraxas. “If Doggbind holds the academy captive, we must be careful. Alphard is in our sister land, Aterna, making friends with Reeve and his court.”
“Is that code for spying?” Asked Maeve dryly.
Roswyn nearly laughed. “Since when is Al an ambassador?”
Abraxas smiled. “Since I appointed him one.”
“Reeve’s alliance was through my father,” said Maeve. “What if he has no desire for such a companionship now?”
She could feel Mal’s eyes on her.
“The hope is that the High Lord of Aterna will still desire to be our friend,” said Abraxas, “and has valuable knowledge about the Dread Artifacts.”
“Only two Dread Artifacts remain out of my possession,” said Mal. “And we are going to find them.”
“The stone and the spell-book remain,” said Abraxas with a nod. “The stone’s last known location was on the Dark Planet.”
“How do you know that?” Asked Maeve.
“Alphard may be struggling to get close to Reeve, but there are entire cities of thousands of Immortals. Many of whom were delighted to tell him what they know.”
“And how long has it been since they were last known to be on The Dark Planet?” She asked.
“Over four hundred years,” said Abraxas.
Maeve sunk into her chair at that daunting information.
“Do you remember our visit to Vetus Willus?” Asked Mal.
She looked over at him. His angelic face studied hers. She nodded.
“I did not expect to walk out of that gaudy mansion with three Dread Artifacts in hand.”
“No,” said Maeve. “Like calls to like.”
He nodded back at her. “Like calls to like.”
They stared at one another until Abraxas broke the silence.
“The spell-book is another obstacle entirely,” he said. “There are no leads for its whereabouts.”
“What about Hiems? Kier loved Mal last I heard,” said Mumford.
“King Kier from Hiems is still thrilled about our realms being open to one another.”
“And Lithandrian and the Elven Lands?” She asked.
Abraxas looked up at her, forgetting she wasn’t aware of their current relations. “Oh,” he said. “Right. Developments there have. . .slowed. Xander is dead.”
Maeve’s jaw loosened. She looked to Mal. His eyes didn’t deny it.
Her heart swelled as a small bit of his Magic brushed up under her chin. It was apologetically possessive.
“And?” She asked, fighting the natural urge to kick her head and close her eyes.
Abraxas snapped his fingers, and a single scroll appeared in his hand. He slid it across the table towards her. She pulled it open, pinning the curling edges in each hand.
Abraxas Rosethorn,
I send our deepest gratitude for your letter. As Hand to the Prince, I imagine it bears heavily upon your heart to bear witness to a time when Hands, such as my Prince brother was to me, are so easily killed.
Maeve’s stomach tightened at the threat.
I am no fool. I understand the reason my brother died. I warned him not to pursue Maeve Sinclair, the Dread Prince’s Viper. My words fell on deaf, and eager, ears.
To answer your call, I am willing to maintain open communication in pursuit of your Dread Prince’s vision for us all. However, be warned, Hand of the Prince, that I am wary of this new world dawning. There is a reason the Elven Lands have been sealed for centuries.
Please pass on my condolences at the great loss of the beloved Ambrose Sinclair. I can think of no one less deserving of that fate.
Lithandrian
Queen of the Elven Lands, Daughter of Luxeron
She looked up at Abraxas. The parchment disappeared with another snap of his fingers. “But the Dread Stone and Dread Spell-book are not all I have been searching for.” He looked at Mal and Maeve. “Finding your little friend Ismail would prove very convenient.”
Maeve had forgotten the exotic Witch.
Abraxas continued. “No one has seen or heard from her since she repaired the Finder’s Stone for the pair of you.”
Maeve looked to Mal, suddenly understanding. “You think she is hiding in Aterna?”
Mal’s eyes never left hers and he smoothly said, “I think it’s a possibility that Reeve was never an ally.”
Maeve looked down at the table and ran her hands across her face. A moment of uncomfortable silence passed as Maeve stared down at the table.
“Do you think there is any chance he did it?” Asked Abraxas gently, his eyes sympathetic.
Maeve didn’t look up at her cousin, hating the fact that her father’s murder was even a topic of conversation, and replied.
“I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it.”